


Opting Out

by hummingrightalong, itslifethatscaresmetodeath



Series: I Dream Of You In Colors That Don't Exist [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslifethatscaresmetodeath/pseuds/itslifethatscaresmetodeath
Summary: Jesus gets the hell out of the city as the infection breaks and militaries respond with absolute force.





	1. Chapter 1

He races out of work as soon as he can, thanking the good sense of his last few clients that they’d heard the broadcasts and thought to take their private jets the fuck out of New York. Paul would’ve hitched a ride, could’ve talk them into it, if he didn’t have other places to be.

He has his own ride, and quickly decides that his boyfriend is first priority. Not necessarily because he cares more for him than Elliot’s family, but because the Bronx is closer. Their shitty apartment, their supplies - never daring to drink the city water they’d have plenty, not to mention living the punk rock lifestyle meant there were more than enough canned foods to throw in a couple of backpacks.

As the car makes it through the clogged traffic trying to cross the bridge he sees men in uniform, setting charges on either side. He’d looked up and seen the cable car line snapping, the safety of at least one of them already compromised before some government asshole made the decision not to take the risk and blow the whole thing. Blood and bodies fall. If he can’t hear the screams (with the chaos all around him it’s hard to tell) he imagines what it must feel like. He imagines he’d lose his resolve. The claim to his nickname probably. It’s terrifying. 

When he finally makes it home to that shitty apartment, using the skills he’s had since a small kid in the orphanage, he knocks the strange, sick people down, hears cracking bone and splitting skull and still they chase. Paul has been adding a few new skills to his long list of mastery in the martial arts- knows he has some sharp as fuck knives that’ll come in handy.

Elliot hasn’t been picking up the phone since the final reports came in today. New York hasn’t got much warning; being a city with 8 million panicking people, that’s no surprise and the grids are probably down from the overload or the careless way the military is obviously trying to cut the islands off from the rest of the world as quickly as they can.

Still, as soon as Paul busts into the door his on again/off again boyfriend is sitting there with a cell phone in one hand. There’s a gun in the other, raised to his temple. He’s turned slightly to watch the chaos out of the window. 

Maybe, for once, the selfish, abusive prick was thinking of the man who worked his ass off at multiple jobs, who was the one to make the effort in the last few months to finally get *their* shit together. Maybe he thought it was too late and couldn’t live without Paul. 

The martial artist catches his breath. Even he was worn out from the trip, from the creeping desperation that he *knew* he needed to get back to Elliot before it was too late. He was dramatic, helpless, and this wouldn’t be the first threat of suicide just because things were getting heavy. Paul had dealt with all that, had come to (dare he say) love the family that the difficult and often unfaithful (as if it were part of a game to spice up their relationship) boyfriend of 3-5 years- depending on if you count all the breaking up in between. 

Some part of him loved the other man though, the artist, and recently things had been better. Pretty good considering. 

Paul had never had a family of his own, but Elliot’s had not only accepted him, but kept asking for him to come around even when things were tense or completely ‘off’ with Elliot. 

“Baby…please, don’t do this. We can handle this. Together. There’s still time. I love you.”

Elliot drops his cell phone, gun firmly pressed to his temple. He doesn’t even say a word before blowing his brains out. Paul didn’t know what he was expecting...not much if he was being honest...He shakes his head, laughs.

“God fucking damn it. Fine. You’d have slowed me down anyway.” He doesn’t even raise his voice, just accepts that yet again he came second. There’s half a dozen missed calls and a few texts from the family on Elliot’s phone. It missed most of the spray, thank goodness, and he decides to at least read the messages before he shoves some things in a bag - his adderall, sleeping pills, some antibiotics from his ear infection and Elliot's Chlamydia, first aid kit, water, some food, clothes, his ipod, phone, solar charger, their camping gear (he’d only gotten Elliot to go once…).

He pauses as he contemplates the gun still in Elliot's hand. He’ll need it, the city is hysterical, on fucking fire. There was already reason enough to own one in this neighborhood and he knows well how to use it, as well as where the spare ammo is kept. He takes a moment to close the man’s eyes, forces back tears. The fucker doesn’t deserve them and he doesn't have time...he throws on his leather duster, changes shoes and he gets the fuck out of here.

He checks Elliot’s phone, feels his heart break. 

*Elliot, Paul, we love you. They’ve blocked off Manhattan. Just get out of the city. There’s guards nearby. We’ll be ok. We’ll see you again. We love you.*

He set the phone on speaker and listened to the desperate voicemails that were left before that. “Elliot, you’re such an asshole.” Paul says to the slumped mess in the corner. “They needed you, even if it’s one last time they needed you too.”

Staying positive, and heading mostly on foot or jumping from the tops of cars and buildings, he makes it to the roads heading outside of the city (thank you parkour). For now, as foolishly sentimental as it’ll seem if this is really the end like he’s heard people screaming (even the ones that were getting out or hadn’t crossed those sick people face to face yet) he kept both phones on hand, a tiny USB stick that he’s damn sure he’ll protect with his life.. There were memories there, and as pathetic as that seemed looking back he’d already decided that he’d be traveling mostly on his own and might need these- for a pick up, to torture himself, he’s not sure. 

He tried to send one message back, hoping it made it. Just a quick text, giving them the bad news (in bad taste, maybe, but a call sure as hell wasn’t going through) and telling them he loved them too. 

As he checks the device, waiting to see the sign that the message was delivered, along with a warning to stay put. It would figure that the government would ‘quarantine’ certain areas and make an attempt to protect others. Elliot’s family did well for themselves. When shit straightened out they’d be even more important.

At that moment a busdriver is rolling down a window. A sharp whistle from the guy behind the wheel gets his attention. “You’re covered in blood. You bit?”

“No! Some asshole decided to take the easy way out. It’s his.”

“Get on board. I’m taking anyone in good enough health as far as this fucking thing will go.” 

Good enough. Better than he could ask for really.


	2. I Guess This Is The New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus heads away from NY, finds a few small settlements and some big problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw a tumblr post saying Jesus would be obsessed with Queen/Freddie Mercury and it's firmly part of our headcanon now.

He gets lonely...sometimes. but with what he’s seen, he's ok with that. Even when he's not travelling alone, it's not for long before the inevitable happens. He's the outcast, the loner, the quiet one...not to be trusted even though he does more than his fair share of the work. They always turn on him. They have someone, a friend, family, a better more likable personality. And he moves on. 

 

It's like when he was a kid all over again

 

He's a city boy, rarely been out of New York at all but whatever is needing to be done, he's the first to volunteer, even if he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's a fast learner and usually he does a good enough job so none are the wiser.   
Maybe it's self preservation kicking in, maybe it's that habit he picked up long ago of craving approval. If you spend 18 years in the pound, you start to wonder if there's a reason you never got a forever home…

The people he always finds closest to the city, after a few days of being sure he’d travel alone forever and that that was the best option, welcome him to their camps after noticing his skills taking out the dead. City people are quick and decisive and self preservation is priority. They don’t judge, but they don’t get close either. It’s not impossible to get them to study a new way of life, but no one is used to it and they never seem excited about the ideas of finding a way to self sustain, to settle down. Maybe he’s too subtle about it. Maybe this is just like back home and they don’t trust him any more than they trust one another.

Those are the groups that don’t turn on him first but on one another. Those are the groups that travel in pairs at the most- it’s a trend he’s noticed about his fellow city dwellers. They don’t have family; maybe that’s a sad story, maybe that was their lives before the apocalypse (which is very clearly where the world is headed- like it or not) but they fall apart because they can’t get together.

He sticks to himself, gathering knowledge from watching others but more so by devouring every book he gathers. Every bit of information about how to survive on the land and on your own maybe isolates him a little bit. It gets harder and harder to relate but he’s always had difficulty making connections, feeling valuable. He enjoys lifting others up and tends to be the last to take credit. 

Certainly people see that, whether Paul knows or not, that he’s always got what somebody needs; a calm sensible look at a problem, a solution nobody thought of, a smartass distraction. He’s vital but the first to be pushed out. It really is like childhood all over again and he starts bailing before the pitchforks come out.

Noticing the change in signage, the accents, the overall demeanors, he realizes he’s hit further south and settles in with a group of several small families. It works out for a surprisingly long time. He notes it must be closing in on a year that he’s been traveling. 

One afternoon, bathing in the river, he catches his reflection as he's trying to wash off the dirt and grime from the road. He wonders what Elliot would think off the beard that's grown surprisingly fast. Not too highly, he imagines. 

People have taken to calling his Jesus, his hair has been long since he was a teenager and with the beard...he's definitely got to admit, he's starting to look like a Renaissance era Jesus. He doesn't correct them, stops using his real name all-together. He’s Jesus now, Paul was left behind in NYC, somewhere along the roadside maybe...who knows?

He gets comfortable enough with these people, a little apprehensive at times but he thinks maybe he’s made some friends if not like-minded individuals. 

Still he tries his damndest when he’s bathing to avoid company. He’s had a mural of iconic Freddie Mercury moments down his entire right leg for many years now. Not to mention on the top of his left thigh (boy was this fun with new boyfriends) an intricate cameo style tattoo with Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls looking adorable, complete with Octi that read ‘sugar and spice and chemical x’,. 

Another man from the camp joins him in the river, who was none too subtle when looking at his tattoos. While these people have been friendly, Jesus has already noticed the lack of other gay men nearby, a few whispers from other campers who don’t seem too fond of him. This fellow included. 

Just when his fellow camper is about to say something, about to ask some damning questions, the man nervously tells Jesus there’s a water moccasin circling them. He’s telling Jesus that they’re the only venomous water snake in the US, knowing that they’re new guest isn’t from these parts so to speak. Potentially fatal, not to be fucked with. Then it strikes. Jesus reacts quickly but not quickly enough- killing the snake and already seeing the agony and fear in the man’s eyes. Neither knows exactly how long this will take, just that they have no proper medical care to save his life- even if the bite isn’t fatal an infection could (and likely would) kill him soon. His family won’t want to deal with this, shouldn’t have to, and there’s a silent acknowledgement between them. He’s not going quietly. But Jesus is too quick. For everyone’s best interest he has to do this.

He takes him down quick, sinks a knife into his temple as the man kicks and thrashes. Just quick enough to get an arm around his throat so he doesn’t alert the other campers with his screams. He weighs down the body, lets it sink to the bottom, quickly dresses, and returns quietly to collect his meager belongings. No one notices him, let alone has time to ask if he’s see anyone bathing or hunting out that way. It could be hours before they think to look for him, especially if they thought he was out there hunting.

It wasn’t the first person he’d been forced to kill, but the first to see it coming, the first that could have been saved- somehow. And it sticks with him. It’s not in him to hurt people unnecessarily. But this had been to save his life and the life of that man’s family. The way he’d looked at him when he realized he wasn’t ‘like them’, the desperation in his eyes when he lunged at Jesus - it was going to be one of them, and it wasn’t going to be him. At the time not everyone had been accepting of the theory that everyone who died got back up, nor did they know how long it’d take if they did understand that point. 

Looking at it logically, these were all horrible truths Jesus had come to understand in his travels. 

It looked like he was alone again. Considering the trap he’d almost walked into - maybe that was for the best.


	3. Forever Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus gets comfortable at Hilltop

He doesn’t like Gregory, almost instantly. And that's unusual for him - Jesus is just a nickname after all so there's little guilt attached to the feeling. He *does* try to give the man a chance, and he does his best to steer gregory's moral compass as he advises him. 

When he’d first arrived, been interviewed, he’d been given a chance to prove his skills wherever he’d be most useful. Of course, he’d lied his ass off but Jesus had been devouring books about living off the land, had brought quite the library from his travels outside of Barrington, somehow knowing they’d be useful at some point. He’d listened carefully to the stories around him about this place being a kind of beacon of hope for anyone who grew up nearby.

He adopted the story, made it his own but vague, so that when he’d proven himself working the lands, and then even more so outside the walls gathering people they could use and things no one else could seem to find, Greg pulled him closer and closer.

For instance, on a long trip he’d discovered a building that hosted a web developing company. It didn’t need much clearing- he’d guessed the computer nerds had done some serious calculations and high tailed it out of there sooner than others. Either way he’d found an entrance from the roof of the building, searching personal desks and coolers. 

The haul he came away with was more than enough to inspire late shift guards to stay awake and alert, with plenty to spare to substitute and save on the use of his ADD meds (energy drinks the market had yet to approve by the case, pallets worth of similar items and a backpack full of caffeine gum- better than a pharmacy haul if you think about it, and far less trouble).

He’d endeared himself to the residents by taking frequent notes of specialty items people needed or wanted. Whether it was to help in their assigned duties or just something from the old world they missed- somehow Jesus could make miracles happen and bring these items home.

It didn’t take long before everyone was subtly suggesting that he take Gregory’s place. But Jesus- and certainly Paul (yeah it’d come to the point where those men felt like two different people)- could never lead. It wasn’t in him, never had been, and that wasn’t *just* insecurity rearing its ugly head. It was the need to be out exploring the new world, doing the little things that would mean a lot. Not sitting in a comfy chair and barking orders, making deals.

It takes only a few months before he realizes why Greg left a sour taste in the back of his throat the moment he met him- aside from the way he carelessly disrespected women.

Simon and Negan had shown up, and before that poor child was even touched a deal had been made. They killed the kid, just 16 years old (and he’d been so brave), slowly, in front of everyone, just because they could. But that had been well after Greg shook hands with the both of them.

Maybe he was just a coward. Maybe he didn’t have the sharpest wit or didn’t realize how much they had to bargain with. Perhaps he didn’t care. Later that evening, having called Jesus to sit across from the desk and offering him a drink of celebration-his refusal more than a subtle symbolic gesture- the scout realizes there aren’t enough excuses in the world for their leader’s attitude. That there was very little concern except for his own hide. Things had to change. Some day. Somehow.

He just wasn’t the man for the job. At least, he hoped it never came to that...


	4. Subtle As A Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, Hilltop's nurse, has been told that Jesus isn't ready for a relationship, several times.

He’s been on the road more than he’s been home. Nothing unusual, and these days, much preferred. He genuinely, honestly, just wanted the last couple of hours before he shut his eyes for a quick nap before he started scavenging all over again to be about the book in his hands. 

Not the complications that come with a relationship that is *in fact* not at all a relationship. He’s explained in no uncertain terms, a few times, that a romantic situation just doesn’t fit into his world right now. It might not ever. 

Alex is nice, and cute, but he doesn’t seem to understand that and as time goes by Jesus is less and less understanding of the other man’s loneliness and less complimented by his insistence and obvious feelings for him. He wishes the guy could just understand that this isn’t what *he* needs, and he sure as hell as a right to ask for that. 

Yet here he is, creeping into Jesus’ room yet again. He hadn’t wanted to move into Barrington house for many reasons, one of which was to avoid this awkwardness. Alex just thinks Jesus is closed off, reserved, as some people do. No one seems to understand that the request has never come from ‘baggage’ or ‘self isolation’. His world is so big now, and he’s so focused on making it that way for everyone, giving everyone a reason to feel empowered and safe in their new surroundings.

“You’ve been gone a long time. How are you doing?”

“Fine, just tired.” Jesus holds up a dusty old book, one he’s read a few times and doesn’t have much to do with work or entertainment, mostly just dull and familiar enough to help him nod off. His insomnia is legendary around here and Alex, with his insistence on forcing his way into his personal business, should recognize this as him winding down. “Pushed two weeks this time and still amped but fucking exhausted. You know?” 

“Yeah, I totally know that about you. I’ve been really worried, it’s just nice to hear your voice.” Alex is already shutting the door behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s alright if I hang out for a while, maybe just to listen to you read?”

Jesus rolls his eyes. “I’m tired. Just that, ok?” The nurse nods enthusiastically, curling up beside him and scanning the page the other man is currently on. Truth be told he’s barely reading it, more watching out of the corner of an eye for the next move. He knows Alex is about to make one, and a standard acceptable time later, true to form, Alex doesn't disappoint, his hand moving in slow circles over Jesus’ stomach, lifting his shirt and running his fingertips over the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.

In the other man’s mind this was where the night was going all along - gosh he was full of patterns, they should work great...if he were at all into a relationship, which again, he’s not.

It’s when he’s got his hand around the scavenger’s cock that Jesus speaks up, peering over his book. “I thought you wanted to listen to me read?”

“So keep reading…” Alex winks. Jesus sighs. He’d weep out of frustration but that’d be too cliche wouldn’t it? ‘Jesus wept - get it?’ he has to fight back the urge to say it aloud and the struggle is real.

“I was serious before, Alex. You’re a nice guy and you deserve to be happy if it’s a relationship you want. I can’t have that and don’t want it in my life right now.” He doesn’t stop him, but doesn’t stop scanning the pages of the book either. After how many times they’d gone over this if somehow Alex was still trying to push it with a booty call that was his decision and his problem if he thought there was more to this than sex. But to save the trouble, this would be the last night. 

When he’s dozing off, Alex curls up beside him. Again, sleeping over had been discussed and wasn’t usually in the plans- it suggested too much Jesus supposed, despite, again, how clear he’d been. “Relaxed.”

“Yeah…” Jesus clicks off the light, eyes wide open and wondering if there’s even a point to let Alex down gently- *again*. So much for curing his insomnia. He wonders if this is excuse enough for saying the guy is bad for his health.

****

With Maggie and Sasha needing room in the trailer, Eduardo and Kal are happy to share their space upstairs. They both have rooms attached to the 2nd floor balcony- complete with mosquito netting. And once Jesus gets there, a thick sheet gets thrown up to block the view of passerby. Nothing nefarious…They swear on Gregory’s life.

Maggie can still get his attention if she climbs to the roof of the trailer and calls his name. She often does and he’s more than happy to interrupt whatever is going on inside or out (don’t judge...it’s a bit of a thrill and while people *are* talking a message is being sent by the move).

The night Hilltop is invaded by the dead, the girls screaming for his help, Kal and Eduardo duck inside for weapons while Jesus takes a faster route to the ground. He never goes anywhere without all the weapons he needs- that can include the boot knife or not- you decide. 

***

When the fight is finally over, and anyone who was willing or able to assist is checked for injuries, Jesus gathers his two new best friends to discuss their new problems. Someone had set this up, this was no accident and there were very serious discussions that needed to happen now.

Damn it.

“Good thing Gregory just appreciates you saving space up there.” Maggie quips. Jesus gasps, feigning shock.

“You shady bitch,” he dramatically accuses before dropping the act all together. “But, hey, on the other hand, if I’d been staying in a different room, I might not have heard you screaming for help.” The girls both give him a knowing look; despite their gratitude not needing to be expressed at this stage in their friendship they all hug. “Anyway, like either of you are virgins.” The girls look at each other, burst out laughing, cause, yeah. “Exactly.”

“But Alex…” Sasha asks gently.

“Has the wrong impression. Or he did anyway.” Both his lady friends raise eyebrows. “Are you bitches slut shaming me? Look, I've been upfront with Alex since the beginning...and several times since. His 'feelings' are not my responsibility. If he doesn't want to sleep with me, it's not like I'm holding a gun to his head.”

“That’s fair...and 100% within your right.” Sasha states firmly. Maggie smiles gently, like she knows *something*. Maybe she thinks she does.

“I don't want a relationship - yes Maggie, I know what I told you, and I also meant it. It's no sob story, I'm a busy man,” for emphasis he holds out his arms and looks at the bodies around him. “Even when I'm home apparently.”

Sasha and Maggie resolve to get him laid. Repeatedly. By the same guy. With feels. Eventually. Never any slut shaming involved cause one of them is pregnant and the other has never been all that innocent either. They just want happy jesus When he's ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a toxic approach to pursuing Jesus in the comics. Had to address it.


End file.
